Sometimes We Fall
by EDauria
Summary: Riggs and Murtaugh are investigating a string of murders, a strange woman has drawn the attention of the LAPD, and Riggs refuses help... until he can't anymore. NO romance.


**Sometimes We Fall**

Summary – Riggs and Murtaugh are investigating a string of murders, a strange woman has drawn the attention of the LAPD, and Riggs refuses help... until he can't anymore. NO romance.

A/N – I am a little shocked that there are so few fics based on this series. It has built in drama, angst, and bromance that I think the show could have gone deeper with, so I am going to restart my writing hobby with this fandom.

I haven't written in years, so this is just my effort to get back into the swing of things. Please R&R, but keep in mind I am just practicing.

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**Prologue**

A light drizzle had started to fall with the setting of the sun, and a thin figure pulled a dark hood sharply forward to protect his face from the rain. The glow of the street lights shimmered wetly on the sidewalks as he stepped out from the darkness cast by a closed cafe. He looked both ways, then darted across the road and huddled into the shadow of a butcher's shop, trying to avoid the neon red of the flashing closed sign.

The growl of an engine could be heard pulling onto the street, and the hooded figure pressed himself firmly up against the wet brick wall. The car rumbled past without slowing, and the man breathed a sigh of relief. Vehicles were against the rules, but the passerby's headlights could have given him away had he not hidden in time. Feeling safe, he headed back behind the building, further into the darkness. The rain had started to fall harder and he was completely soaked through. As he turned into the back alley behind the butcher's shop he reached into his sweater pocket and pulled out a Ziploc bag. Inside was a dark lump of something hard, and he clasped it tightly to his chest as he spun around, surveying the area.

The alley behind the butcher's shop was small and cluttered with garbage, and the air had a tinge of something raw and foul. Kicking aside wads of paper and ruined boxes, the figure hunched over the bag as he opened it, trying to protect the precious item from what now could be classified as a downpour. He cursed the rain as he knelt on the asphalt, clasping the object tightly between his fingers, and began to draw on the ground. He needed this to work; he was running out of time, and they were coming for him.

A sharp, scraping sound ripped through the alley, and the kneeling man froze in terror. He was not done! Frantically, he continued scrawling in the darkness, desperate to join the illegible scribbles together to form the cohesive work that would save his life. But there was movement in the shadows, and the bone jarring shriek of scraping steel drew closer to the hapless figure.

"Too late," a voice barely louder than the rain growled from mere feet away. The last thing he heard was a sharp wind that cut through the sodden air, then he was just another part of the darkness.

(())

Martin Riggs had long since forgotten that it was raining. He had, in fact, forgotten a good many things as he staggered down a poorly lit road somewhere in L.A. There were innumerable such streets in this city, so which one he was on was one of those pieces of information that had become lost in the haze of booze and misery that covered him more thickly than the pouring rain. He was certain the road would lead him home, however, or to a bar, both of which had whiskey inside and he had thankfully not forgotten that that was his goal. He wondered momentarily why he wasn't driving his truck, but then tripped over what he was sure was the largest rat he had ever seen. He staggered dramatically and fell unhindered into a puddle, or the ocean, he wasn't sure at the moment.

The rat was in fact a cat, which had darted across the sidewalk and into a shop stoop, its white fur long and dripping, and had begun a mournful yowl that had Riggs simultaneously scrambling away, and reaching for his gun to silence the damn thing.

"Sh! Shut up!" Riggs hissed when his hand came up empty. Though it was probably best that he was not armed, he did have to wonder where he had left his weapon. Hopefully with his truck, and he would find that later. The cat hissed back as Riggs tried unsuccessfully to roll out of the water and onto his feet.

A bright light suddenly illuminated the stoop, and the shop door opened. The pathetic cat darted inside, and a woman stepped carefully out into the rain. She was wearing a short robe and her long, dark hair was quickly plastered to her head and shoulders as she made her way down the steps to the sidewalk.

"You have no shoes on," Riggs laughed as though this observation was quite a funny joke.

The woman squatted down beside Riggs, uncaring of the the filthy water that trickled up to her ankles and soaked the hem of her robe. " Are you okay?" she asked in a cynical voice that said she already knew the answer.

"I'm just great, Ma'am," he winked grotesquely and relaxed back with his weight on his elbows. "Just taking an evening dip in the ocean."

The woman raised her eyebrows and smiled kindly, making Riggs feel like a slow child. "It's two in the morning and you are lying in a storm drain."

"Well then," Riggs nodded, then raked his wet hair back from his face. "I should probably head home." He attempted to rise twice, both times he ended up nearly face first in the water, and was losing the motivation to try again. That was fine, he would just sleep on the beach.

"Come on then," Riggs had forgotten he was not alone. A delicate hand reached down and clasped his bicep, then pulled him strongly up. His arm was draped across thin shoulders, and Riggs realized that the woman was quite short, he had to hunch over to put his weight on her. He decided this worked out alright since he couldn't stand up straight to begin with, and allowed the woman to guide him into her shop and out of the rain.


End file.
